


the games they play

by lowfidelity



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A self-indulgent endeavour into this ship yet again, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 13:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20489951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowfidelity/pseuds/lowfidelity
Summary: A man that once hid away every indication of his skin aside the serpent’s tongue — his only pride — now lies bare before him. Quicksilver eyes contour the lines in his pectoral, his collarbone, his jawline. Alchemize with the gold around his pupils. Urianger is ever forbearing, yet he cannot resist the desire to quip.“I once thought thee more impatient in bed,” he muses aloud.





	the games they play

**Author's Note:**

> while my previous writing for this ship was more fluffy, i decided to indulge more in a different side of them. i hope you enjoy it!

Had it been anyone else, Urianger’s robe would befuddle any that wished it undone. Yet serendipitously it is Thancred, with the light fingers of a thief, who removes his lover’s clothes with finesse.

A man that once hid away every indication of his skin aside the serpent’s tongue — his only pride — now lies bare before him. Quicksilver eyes contour the lines in his pectoral, his collarbone, his jawline. Alchemize with the gold around his pupils. Urianger is ever forbearing, yet he cannot resist the desire to quip.

“I once thought thee more impatient in bed,” he muses aloud. Thancred shakes his head. Exhales his arousal in the guise of a chuckle.

“I was worried I’d go too fast for you. If I don’t give you a good few minutes to think, you might short circuit.”

“I hath partaken in my share of trysts before this. One need not worry for me. Intimacies aside, did I not fell immortal beings, traverse parallel realms, fight many a battle and war…?”

“And it would only take you moons in preparation.” To sweeten the snark of his jest, he leans in for a kiss. This is truly what makes their place in the Pendants a home, the duvet of his lips, the hearth of his beating heart. Urianger exhales as he reciprocates the kiss, and there’s the arousing noise of his restraint — his hesitation to release any wanton sounds, anything raw and unwoven from his verses. To Thancred, it’s a challenge. Yes, he’s already uncovered a side of Urianger that was hidden in the shadows he cast in calculation, but he wants all of it. Know him more than he knows himself.

And so he pushes against his lips with a more desperate fervor, eliciting kisses of equal force, betraying the other’s thirst in the mere slip of his tongue. A hand digging into Urianger’s hair encourages a guttural moan. A satisfied mewl. A rock of the boat in his usually steady tempo. Yet, as Thancred knows, his lover is not so recluse as to keep to himself, for his delicate fingertips trace lines along the scarred and sound skin of his back alike. It sends chills up his spine. It quickens the pace of his breath. It earns Urianger a moan in return, and in a note surprisingly lofty for the reputation of Thancred Waters. 

Thancred pulls himself away from Urianger’s lips and ducks into the soft flesh of his neck. What starts with gentle kisses and licks escalates into nipping and suckling a brand into skin that all will see, unless he so chooses to don the hood of his arcanist’s garb again. Urianger’s lips are a thin line in a futile attempt to bar his arousal from slipping through the cracks. To no avail. For in a baritone sigh: “Thancred…”

“Mm.” A bare acknowledgement, as he is busy with his work.

“Thou art intent on teasing.” Urianger navigates the words all slow. “Prithee…”

“I once thought thee  _ less _ impatient in bed,” he imitates, breathing hot air on the wet mark he’s made. Urianger’s hand, firm yet guiding, pulls Thancred into another intimate kiss.

But it would be foolish to assume one could hold him down in any place. For like the rogue he was raised as, he quickly slips away, turning and straddling Urianger’s abdomen. It is in the low light that he can witness all of Thancred’s scars — something he, too, must hide away, as Urianger once did his eyes. His hands make for tracing paths down the other’s hips, indulging in his silhouette. Their traces then become a firm grip, for his shaft is treated in turn.

Thancred’s palm learns the intimate details. Urianger’s member, while slim, is of considerable length, of a shape that looks like it’ll be fun to have all the way inside of him. But for now, in his determination to tease Urianger into his most base instincts, he simply tugs at his cock. Spares licks at the head, up the shaft, but never swallowing the other whole. Teasing with the drip of his spit. Urianger allows his shuddery breaths, but he refuses to give them tone.

“If it is thy wish to play games,” he forewarns. 

The weight of Thancred’s lower half is hefted onto Urianger’s arms, and what he has been so hesitant to do — to take his lover into his mouth — is wrought upon him. He moans all sharp, an embodiment of his shock. With the encouragement of Urianger’s firm, guiding hands on his back, he rocks unto his lips.

“Seven hells,” Thancred hisses. He wishes he could see it, the image of Urianger taking him so deeply without so much as a sound. Perhaps it was always in their nature as friends, to passively best each other as a means of banter. No, he won’t back down from the raise of the stakes, he decides, as his licks at Urianger’s large, velvety head become generous kisses, and then far more, as much as he can take.

It twitches against his tongue. Compared to Urianger, he is far more practiced, and he runs it along the sensitive underside. He tightens his mouth around the hilt, the rest of it following in turn, only to come up and tease at the elezen’s head once more. It is then that Urianger finally moans, stifled by the girth of his cock. He plays with the balls of the other, rolling them in his free hand, as the other jerks off the unreachable remainder of his member. 

Intertwined in another, their moans create enticing vibrations. Harmonize between Thancred’s high notes and Urianger’s deep keens. The warm cover of each other’s mouths are all the comforts of a bed duvet, of an embrace, with none of the relaxation — a tension between them. Rising to a boiling point.

Thancred finally releases Urianger from his throat.

“Fuck me,” he gasps for both air and for arousal, “Uri, please —”

“‘Tis my pleasure.”

Cold air hits Thancred’s shaft, but its temperature is quickly snuffed out by the heat of its skin. His back hides its scars against the shadows of their dimlit room once more, instead bearing those along his chest, his abdomen, his thighs. But Urianger can only look into his eyes, indulge in the silver lining he once hid behind hair and cloth, as Thancred lowers himself unto him.

“Thou art so beautiful — art  _ mine _ —” 

“I’m yours,” he echoes, brow tense and eyes fluttering shut as he takes all of Urianger inside of him. Yes, it’s as interesting as he imagined it to be, and his mind melts as it culminates into reality. It’s by instinct that he’s driven to rise up to the tip of the other’s cock, then slam down upon his hips and feel all of those sensations in an unrivaled rush. 

It is only in the face of Thancred’s wild abandon, his desperate self-pleasuring thrusts against him, that Urianger allows himself to dip into his swelling, animalistic desires. He grips at Thancred’s waist, meeting each fall of his groin with a peak of his own, slamming into the man’s depths with no restraint. Thancred topples, nose dipping into his neck, and he bites at the sensitive mark he’d made moments prior. Urianger has no choice but to moan, like a bassline, like a beast. He is like dripping chocolate.

In each other’s games, they break down into their wanting states, not fixated on the past nor the future. In the now, they simply hunger. There are no masks between them, only moans and motion and musk.

“I’m going to —”

“Then — it shall be done!”

With final, violent thrusts comes a rush of warmth within Thancred, as his own spills upon Urianger’s stomach. Their frantic high finally cools. Thancred collapses into Urianger, the other carefully pulling out of him, and serendipitously, their lips catch each other’s corners. 

Thancred’s breaths are akin to his airy chuckles, steady and tempered. Urianger’s, like his sermons, ragged, rhythmed, and rocking his lover to sleep. Under the moonlight they brought about, they celebrate each other’s victory.

For in the games they play between each other, no one loses.


End file.
